


5 times Schlatt drinks himself into a mental breakdown + 1 time he breaks down without the alcohol

by Goat_Guy



Series: DSMP Bande AU [5]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, Angst, Blood and Injury, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gambling, Hiding Medical Issues, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mr Philz’s Minecraft is a good dad in this au, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Addiction, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Tommy and Tubbo are mentioned for like a single second, Trauma, Underage Drinking, Vomiting, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, it took me about two week to write this help, surprisingly this isn’t a vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29079966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goat_Guy/pseuds/Goat_Guy
Summary: Please heed the tags for warnings of this fic! It deals with things like alcoholism, alcohol poisoning, self hatred and even accidental self harm.-------Everyone knew Schlatt as that happy go lukcy guy who drank himself silly, and even Drunk Schlatt was a fun, silly guy! Everyone loved drunk Schlatt....So....Why need the real Schlatt?
Relationships: Connor | ConnorEatsPants & Jschlatt, Jschlatt & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Jschlatt & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot
Series: DSMP Bande AU [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2102193
Comments: 6
Kudos: 126





	1. Dead Man Walking

**Author's Note:**

> The Bande AU is solely based off the Dream SMP CHARACTERS, not the content creators themselves. Want to specify that before anything may be seen in the wrong light.

**Quackity:**

The first time he ever got that fucked up and broke in front of someone was a time he isn't really proud of. Schlatt and Quackity were in the midst of their fighting phase, the two trying to keep as much space between each other as possible while still living in a small apartment together. 

Quackity's attention was caught when he heard the quiet sound of the fridge door opening and closing. He shifted his headphones slightly, looking behind him and into the kitchen and he wasn't surprised to see Schlatt standing in front of the fridge again for the fourth fucking time that night with a beer bottle in his hands. 

The raven haired guy was about to go back to making edits on the rough lyrics Wilbur had sent him a few hours ago until he caught something out the corner of his eye and picked up on a faint sniffle that came from the other. 

Quackity has seen Schlatt drunk plenty of times. The guy was never an angry or emotional drunk. Hell, he was actually pretty funny when he was drunk. He did have to admit though, his boyfriend's intake of alcohol had become concerning in the past few months, but Quackity had already fought with him about that, and Schlatt had been drunk when that happened, so he didn't take the shorter seriously. 

But this, this wasn't a normal drunk Schlatt thing. Crying wasn't a normal Schlatt thing at all. The guy never really cried and when he did, it was usually fake or for a joke. Yeah he would get frustrated and upset, but in the almost 10 years of knowing him, Quackity had never seen Schlatt cry, once. 

Said man was struggling to open the bottle he had in his hands. The bottle cap opener was unstable in his hands, which were shaking. He stopped and placed the bottle on the counter to rub his sweater sleeve against his face, which Quackity couldn't see. 

Schaltt hadn't seemed to notice Quackity sitting on the couch, nor did he notice when Quackity walked up next to him. Quackity would have naturally assumed this was Schlatt playing a joke on him to get his attention, like he did back before things got bad, but those jokes were just Schlatt making sniffles and fake crying; never under breath swearing and trembling. 

"Hey, Schaltt? You okay?" Quackity slowly reached his hand to hold onto Schlatt's, moving them away from the unopened bottle.

"H-huh? Oh I'm *hic* ffffucking fine Quackity." his words were slurred and jumbled. Quackity let go of his boyfriend's hands and picked up the bottle, walking over to the fridge and opened it, seeing that more than four bottles were missing from the fridge door. Schlatt always insisted on buying 12 packs, and over half of the pack was already gone….Schlatt bought the pack just yesterday. 

The shorter felt his face get cold as he hesitantly put the bottle back into the door, thinking if maybe he should just pour the rest down the drain. He didn't though. 

Schlatt was hunched over the counter top, his elbows resting on the cold fake stone and his head in his hands. He was groaning and occasional hiccups came from him, mixed with soft sobs. 

Quackity walked back over to Schlatt, placing a hand on his arm and trying to get him to look up. 

"Schlatt, come on. Look at me hun. I can tell you're crying."

"I-I don't fffucking cry. I'm a strong guy I-I don't need tea-*hic* tears. Don't touch me."

Quackity lowered his hands. He moved over to the other side of the counter, placing a hand onto Schlatt's chin, slowly and softly moving it so that Schlatt would look up at him. 

The man was so fucking drunk. 

He looked like a mess. His eyes were red and puffy, his face was a disgusting flush that Quackity knew Schlatt only had when drunk, unlike his would blush at Quackity's flirty quips. He had drool and some excess alcohol on his chin, which was gross but Schlatt literally crying was more important than that. And speaking of crying, he still was crying. Well, more silently sobbing. His cheeks had angry red lines where his tears had rolled down, collecting on his chin or sliding down his neck. 

"Schlatt, what's wrong?" Quackity ruffled the man's hair slightly, resting his face in it and pressing a kiss to his head. Schlatt trembled again and let out a heartbreaking sound that hurt Quackity just hearing. 

"Fuck Quackity it hurts. It hurts so bad." his voice wavered as he spoke. He reached his hands out and tried to hug onto Quackity, even with the counter in the way. Quackity in response moved to be next to Schlatt and let the taller hug him, burying his face into the shorter's neck as he messily sobbed. 

"What hurts Schlatt? You gotta tell me bud." he raked his fingers through Schlatt's hair.

"Everything. My head hurts so bad, I feel like I can't fu-fucking breath, it feels like my h-heart is trying to rip itself out of my ow-n chest." he took a moment to take in a very shallow and rsttling breath. "I can't f-f-feel my hands either. It hurts so much. A-and I broke a fucking bottle on accident and now I was gonna get snother o-one but I can't fucking open it." 

"Wait wait wait! You broke a bottle upstairs? Are you okay?" Quackity moved Schlatt so that he could look at him. Schlatt held out his trembling hands and Quackity could see small cuts littering Schlatt's hands. There was one though further down Schlatt's arm that was deeper, and still had a fucking shard of the bottle sticking out of it. 

"I-I slipped and it broke against my desk and I also hit my wrist and I th-think I might have hurt it badly."

Okay okay. Quackity had to be calm. Fuck he wasnt used to being the calm one in situations like this. He Gently took Schlatt's hands and led him to the bathroom, having him sit down on the toilet. He grabbed some tweezers from the medicine cabinet. Thankfully, the bottle shard wasn't big, but it definitely wasn't small. 

He grabbed onto the shard, pulling it out of Schlatt's arm. The other winced and tried to pull his arm back, which Quackity refuted by pulling it closer to himself. Once he got it out, he was glad to see it wasn't deep as he originally thought. It would hopefully heal without stitches, cause he definitely didn't have the supplies or money to do it himself or take Schlatt to the hospital. He cleaned it, had Schlatt take off his sweater since the sleeve had blood on the inside of it, and bandaged up his wrist. 

Quackity sighed. Schlatt was laying in bed now, the broken bottle sweeped up and thrown into the trash but the other bottles on the others desk stared down Quackity as he sat next to Schlatt. 

His attention turned when he felt Schlatt wrap his arms around him. Quackity leaned down, kissing his forehead and sighing. He knew as long as he was here, Schlatt couldn't get himself hurt in some dumb way, but that doesn't entirly help when said person is already so hurt inside and refuses to acknowledge it. 

Schlatt softly snored, snuggling into Quackity's side in his sleep. He would be okay, for today at least. 

* * *

**Connor:**

The second time he can properly recall was shortly after he broke up with Quackity. He had a gig that week and god he hated performing in front of large crowds but this was the only thing he was good at. 

Schlatt was sitting in his dressing room, tie undone and a suit coat hung around the back of his chair. These over the price fancy cathedrals and venus always had wine, and even if it didn't do much, it would have to do. Downing the entire thing won't kill him, he knows. Afterall; he's been doing this since he was 16. 

He was already halfway through the bottle and definitely not sober when Connor, his manager and long time friend walked into the dressing room, holding a stack of papers and walking over to his bag and placing them next to it. 

"Schlatt, you've got an hour till you're up bud. You ready-?...Schlatt are you fucking drunk again?"

"No. Not yet at least. Not as drunk as I need to be." he took a long swig straight from the wine bottle. He let out an aggravated grunt when Connor swiped the bottle away from him. Connor was aware of Schlatt's little problem. Well, he thought that all it was was a little problem. He knew Schlatt had terrible performance anxiety and claimed he needed to be at least buzzed before he could go on and play, but half a bottle of fucking wine would leave even Schlatt more than a little buzzed. 

The thing he hated though, was that Schlatt wasn't wrong. He's seen the guy go on completely sober and he flubs like some 5yr old rookie, but when drunk out of his mind, he can get standing ovations from even the most cruel audiences. 

Connor sighed, putting the wine on the table again but looking at Schlatt sternly. 

"Well I can smell it from here; you are buzzed enough….Schlatt…did you drink before even coming here?" 

The only response he needed was the incoherent laugh and hiccup he got from the other. 

Schlatt pushed his chair back and lost balance, falling over and just silently giggling to himself. Connor pinched the bridge of his nose. He was genuinely worried for his best friend. It hurt to see him like this. Connor looked back down at Schlatt, except Schlatt was no longer laughing at himself. 

Instead, he was staring off into space mumbling something. Connor couldn't make out what he said, but apparently wasn't important because Schlatt just got back up and shook his head, pushing Connor slightly and grabbing at the wine bottle again. 

Connor tried to stop him but was met with a hand hitting him away. Schlatt glared at him as he sat back down. 

"Stop fucking with me Connor. You want me to do good, right?"

"Yeah but it would be awesome if maybe you could do it while not dying of alcohol poisoning!"

Schlatt seemed to, in his drunken state, take this as a challenge and started to chug the bottle, getting pretty fsr until Connor smacked the bottle out of his hands and onto the floor. 

"I-I can't die from fffucking alchol poison bitch! I'm a f-fucking god. You're just je-jelous-"

As Schlatt spoke, he gagged and covered his mouth, hunching over and reaching for the nearest trash can, vomiting back up the large amount of liquid he had tried to ingest all at once.

"What was that about being a god Schlatt?" 

When Connor didn't get a usual drunken sly remark back he became concerned. Schlatt was just hunched over the trash can, breathing heavily and shaking slightly. What threw Connor though was the distressed and sad sound that came from Schlatt. 

"I c-can't do it Connor. P-p-please don't make me ffucking go on tonight." 

"Holy shit Schlatt! Are you okay man?"

"God it hurts so ba-...bad. My thro-at fffeels like it's on f-fire. Everything hurts." He cried, wiping his eyes with his sleeve and hiccuped, trying to keep himself from vomiting again. His body wanted to give up and he could feel it trying. 

"Schlatt! Hey man look at me okay?" Schlatt did as told, glancing up at Connor, even if his eyes refused to focus properly. "You're not dying on me, right man? Cut all the business bull shit. If you can't fucking perform your health comes first man. Whether that be physical or mental." 

Schlatt gave him some half hearted acknowledgement. He groaned and doubled back over the trash can and puked up the wine again. 

"Hey man drink some water but Slowly! Sips only." Connor was used to this, making sure Schlatt wasn't hung over as shit after gigs but this was different. The guy was having some kind of breakdown and all Connor knew to do was rub Schlatt's back. 

That all he did till Schlatt shakily sat back up and instantly wrapped his arms around Connor. Okay. This was happening now. Connor hesitantly held Schlatt as the man cried. 

"It's okay Schlatt. You are somewhere safe. I'm right here man." 

Connor remembers Quackity telling him that the last weeks of his and Schlatt's relationship were filled with Schlatt having episodes were he would drink himself stupid and the break down heavily, crying his throat raw and even once cutting himself with a broken bottle, claiming it was an accident and that he had dropped to bottle and then got cut trying to clean it up. 

Schlatt drew in another rattling breath that drew Connor back to what was happening. He knew Schlatt was hurt, he knew Schlatt had a tendency to push those things down till he forgot about them, only for it to fuck him over later, and that's what was exactly happening. 

He pulled Schlatt closer, hugging him tighter.

"It'll be okay man. You're here, you're safe. I'm not gonna leave you here alone."

* * *

**Wilbur:**

The next time wasn't even really Wilbur finding him drunk. Wilbur happened to be set as his primary contact on his medical records at the time, since he was Schlatt's closest friend at the time.

Schlatt had been home alone when he got hit with another one of those waves of feeling. He didn't understand them, but he knew that he hated them. They all always ended in him being hurt or crying and as always, over drinking. Another "episode" as everyone who knew him called them. 

He scratched at his arms, anxiety rising in his blood as this feeling of loneliness and no safety began to creep into his bones. That part of his brain screamed at him again, begging to go numb and become that loopy funny guy everyone seemed to love when he was drunk out of his mind. He had been to enough parties to know that people enjoyed drunk Schlatt that made jokes and was never serious over normal Schlatt that seemed cold and sectioned off. 

Before he could even really think, he was already in front of the fridge, opening a bottle and quickly chugging it down. If Wilbur had been home, he would have sneaked one bottle under his shirt or in his pocket while he takes one up to his room, pretending he was just doing some fun late night drinking. 

But, Wilbur wasn't home, so he didn't have to worry about Wilbur trying to stop him. Schlatt had already downed three bottles before he felt the bad feeling slowly seep away and he started to feel okay again. He coughed hard, not used to chugging beers anymore. After his breakdown a month ago where he almost broke his wrist from fighting Wilbur for the bottle, he had been trying his best to stay clean. 

For a moment he started thinking maybe he should stop now and wait for Wilbur to come home and maybe talk to him, but by the time the fourth bottle kicked in, that thought was kicked out the window and replaced with a want to be numb of the fear he felt. 

After a while, he lost count of how many bottles he had downed, but the still working part of his brain knew it was too many. He shakily took out his phone, going through his contacts till he reached Connor, calling him and starting to feel his body try and reject the mass amount of beer. His eyes even started to water.

Connor picked up, confusion lacing his words. "Uh hey Schlatt. You good man? I'm in the middle of a meeting right now man can it wait?" 

When Connor heard a hiccup and sob from the other end of the line, he knew damn well it couldn't wait. 

"C-connor call me an am-..ambulance pleeeth. I don't k-know how much I d-dr-ank but I feel fffucki-ing awful."

"Holy shit yeah dude fuck okay just sit tight man. Please for the love of god don't die on me." Connor switched from calling Schlatt to calling emergency services, trying to be as calm as possible while calling for an ambulance for his friend who might be dying of fucking alcohol poisoning.

Schlatt was just gradually feeling worse and worse. He felt himself fading in and out of consciousness, when he heard people knocking on the front. Probably the paramedics or something. Part of Schlatt didn't care really anymore. It wouldn't be surprising if alcohol poisoning while he was trying to get clean and stuck alone at home was what killed him. He then passed out. 

Wilbur had been in the middle of working on his new song, sitting in his and his band's studio, tapping his pencil against the table under him as he thought. It was hard to focus when Quackity was fucking around with his mic, trying to figure out how this one glitched out to only produce his voice in auto tune. It was a common occurrence for Quackity's microphones. 

Wilbur's phone was on silent, set on the table and more in front of Bad then him. He had headphones on, listening to Niki playing through some chords in the recording booth, and noting down some things. 

He looked up when Bad tapped on his shoulder, holding out Wilbur's phone, which was being called. Wilbur sighed, taking off the headphone and picking up his phone, accepting the call while walking out of the room. 

"Hello?"

"Hello is this Mr Wilbur Soot?"

"Yes this is. Why?"

"Well, you were listed down as a patient by the name of J Schlatt's first emergency contact. He's currently having his stomach pumped. A man named Connor told us that Mr Schlatt had called him begging him to call an ambulance because he thought he was going to die of alcohol poisoning."

Wilbur was silent, terrified at what he just heard. He thickly swallowed and let out a shaky breath. 

"Fuck okay. Um, I'll be right there to work out any paperwork." 

"It would be best if any parents or next to kin did that. By law they are required-" 

"He doesn't have either of those. I'll be doing that for him."

The person on the other end of the line was silent as Wilbur walked back in, putting his coat back on, telling Bad he had to go and that it was a serious emergency. Bad understood and wished him a good day.

Wilbur would definitely need that. 

It took 20 minutes to get to the hospital Schlstt was being treated in. Wilbur sighed as he walked up to the front desk.

"I'm here to see JSchlatt."

"JSchlatt…JSchlatt…ah. He's only just been admitted. Only family can-"

"Yeah only family can see him and all that bs. I don't want to be an asshole ma'am but I'm all the guy's got. He's got no family. I'm his emergency contact for everything, please."

"....Well, if you are the one trusted with his life then I have no right to keep you from seeing him."

And with the information of Schlatt's room, Wilbur took off in search of it. He made sure not to bust down the door or anything, but he probably could have been a bit nicer about opening it. 

It hurt to see Schlatt, his best friend laying there in a hospital bed. Water IV in his arm and shit. Got Wilbur hated seeing his friend's in the hospital, even if it were for good things. Hospitals just made Wil uncomfortable in weird ways. 

Wil looked down at Schlatt when he heard the other cough, walking over and dragging a chair next to the bed. He sat down, waiting for a doctor to come in or Schlatt to talk to him. 

Schlatt…Schlatt doesn't want to say anything. He knows if he starts talking he's going to break down again and no matter what he says, he knows Wilbur will be disappointed in him.

After what felt like hours of silence, Wilbur spoke up.

"You know, they're probably gonna put you on suicide watch."

"I wasn't trying to kill myself. I'm smart enough to know alcohol poisoning isn't the way to go."

"I know, but they're probably gonna do a bunch of evaluations on you and realize you're not 100% man."

Schlatt goes quiet, looking up at the ceiling. Wilbur cleared his throat and continued.

"I know you weren't trying to kill yourself but, why did you do it? You could have just called me man."

"Because I was scared and I couldn't think straight. I wasn't sure what the hell I was even doing, and then all of a sudden I've already downed three bottles like it's nothing….God my head hurts so bad."

"No shit it's gonna hurt man." Wilbur sighed, racking his hand through his hair and grabbing one of Schlatt's hands, looking the other in the eyes. "Schlatt, you worry all of us so much sometimes. Please, know that you've got a support system here for you. Schlatt? Are you crying?"

"No I-I'm not fucking crying. I don't cry." he was crying. 

Wilbur sighed, more light hearted this time and leaned over, hugging Schlstt the best he could. 

"It's okay man. Let it out."

* * *

**Phil:**

After Techno and Schlatt started living together, Techno started inviting him to spend Christmas with him and his family. It was a weird thing to get used to, especially with Tommy's strange admiration he had for Schlatt and how both Wilbur and Techno had said the boy looked up to him. 

Schlatt sighed, listening to Wilbur go on about some guy he met recently at a coffee shop and how this dude had bright blue hair that hurt Wil's eyes to look at.

The usual drinking game the adults of the family did had started not too long ago. Tommy and Tubbo had gone up to Tommy's room a while ago, taking two of the five pizza boxes with them. The downstairs tv was playing some cliche HallMark Christmas movie. Their drinking game was to take a shot or sip every time you cringed, sighed at the content of the movie or made some off hand compliment/criticism of the movie. 

They were barely half way into the movie and Wilbur was indeed drunk off his ass. 

Techno had barely drank anything, keeping mainly quiet the entire time.

Phil was fine. He had decided to not partake in the drinking game this year.

Schlatt, on the other hand, had of course backed out of it. Not by choice, he was forced to by Wilbur and Techno. He was as of a week ago, 6 months clean. 

But, Schlatt had been having an extremely tough week. He wasn't taking gigs because Connor insisted that he should take a break for his mental health. The only income he had was from Techno and Techno's own gigs. He hated not being able to help his friend out. All he had been doing is laying in bed with his thoughts, festering and even worsening over the week. 

Currently from the outside it looked like Schlatt was just very intent on watching the movie, but Phil, who had shifted to looking at his overly drunken son to the guest. Phil could see that Schlatt wasn't paying attention to the movie at all. The distant pain in his eyes wasn't hidden in the slightest.

The brunette raised his glass and took a long sip, slightly cringing in on himself as he drank. Phil sat, looking as the liquid moved in the cup. It was…a little thicker than water should be. 

Phil stood up, announcing that he was going to make something for everyone to snack on. As he passed Schlatt, he tapped on the guy's shoulder, motioning for him to accompany him in the kitchen. 

Schlatt sighed, getting up and slipping a little before fully standing up. It would be a lie to say that Schlatt didn't slip Liquor into his cup instead of water, so he wasn't 100% sober. Hey, the guy had started feeling bad a few hours ago so once the drinking game started, he saw it as his opportunity to feel less panicky. 

He followed Phil into the kitchen, setting his cup down on the counter and looking at Phil, waiting for what the older needed help with. 

Once the cup had been set down, Phil almost instantly picked it up and emptied it down the sink, letting it then roll out his hand and be added to the other dishes. 

"Dude what the hell…." there was no anger, shock or malice behind Schlatt's words. He was only buzzed, so he still recognized that what he had been doing wasn't good for him. He was sure that Phil had been too preoccupied with his drunk sons and not with the guest that one of said songs had just simply brought along. 

"Schlatt, mate, what were you thinking that made you break it? It's been what, six months? I'm not blind mate."

"I fucking know that Phil. I just wanted to join in on the fun."

"Bull shit. The first thing you said when you got here this morning was that under no circumstances were you to be allowed near alcohol. And you're not a guy who just goes back on his words like that. So, what the fuck happened?"

Schlatt curled in on himself slightly, shoving his hands into the hoodie pocket and picking at his fingers under the protective cloth.He wanted to give Phil a good explanation, he really did but….nothing came to mind. He couldn't say anything. 

"I…I um…fuck I-I…" Sclatt stuttered out, his eyes tearing up as he tried to think of how to explain it. He placed a shaking hand over his mouth, his whole body trembling as tears made their way down his face. 

Phil stood there next to him. The elder grabbed Schlatt's shoulder and brought him into a hug, rubbing the taller's back slowly. It wasn't well hidden that Schlatt had been through the ringer a few times. Phil just had a knack for seeing that in people. He felt Schlatt's shaky hands move to hug him back, crying into his shoulder, obviously trying to hide that he was crying at all. 

The blonde looked in the living room, where Techno and Wilbur had already passed out on the couch, none the wiser to what was happening. With a sigh, Phil led Schlatt towards one of the spare rooms, telling the taller man that he should get some rest. Phil wasn't the best with comforting people, but Schlatt did look very tired, so maybe his slight intoxication would help him rest. 

Schlatt just nodded, not bothering to fight the other as he walked to a spare room that was pointed out to him. 

He sighed, flopping down on the bed and putting his arms over his eyes. God, his chest hurt so fucking bad. 

* * *

**Techno:**

That night was such a blur to Schlatt. He had been over a year clean, he felt like he was getting better. The doctor even said he was doing better. 

So, he'd really like an explanation as to why he was sitting here in front of him and Techno's coffee table, said table covered with beer bottles, a half empty wine bottle, Schlatt's whiskey filled flask and said whiskey bottle. He reached out one shaking hand, making a soft note about how his hand still dripped blood, most of it scabbed over though at this point. 

A few hours ago, Schlatt had another panic attack. He couldn't explain why, he didn't remember why it started. All he remembers is suddenly feeling unbelievable panic, a want to vomit and the old need he thought he had finally suffocated. 

Techno wasn't a dumb guy. He had locked up any alcohol that was in the house. He wasn't much of a drinker, but it was always a good idea to have at least some fancy wine laying around in case musical peers came to their house. 

Schlatt sucked in a breath, struggling to do so. His arm hurt so bad, his hands felt numb but on fire at the same time. The blunt short nails now sat ragged and bleeding, obvious signs of scratching and prying open. He was always aware of where Techno hid these things, but he never had the balls to try and trick the guy into giving him some to drink. Once though he did get a bit, but that was for his birthday and it was only one beer, and he himself had been the one to consciously stop himself and keep from going overboard. 

The weak, bloodied hand wrapped around a beer bottle and brought up to move around, seeing if it was empty or not. When it was discovered that it was empty, Schlatt let it fall out of his hand and hit the coffee table before rolling onto the carpet below him. His head was down, resting in the crook of his other arm. 

Everything hurt.

His throat was raw from crying and yelling, his hands were in so much pain from scraping and scratching open every lock he could find, his arm was badly bruised from slamming himself against the locked pantry until he had knocked the lock out of place, his eyes burned from the crying, and his throat had an extra burn from the alcohol. 

Schlatt could already feel a headache seeping in, even in his inebriated state. But even so, he didn't bother to get up, just sitting there, head down and just letting the moment of nothingness stay. He wanted this feeling to last forever. If he could feel like that funny party guy who doesn't have to worry about complicated emotions then to hell if alcohol poisoning gets him in the hospital a few times. 

He didn't even bother to look up when the front door was unlocked and his roommate stepped in.

"Hey Schlatt I'm back. I got us some diner- HOLY FUCK SCHLATT!" Techno dropped the take out bag he had been holding and rushed to his friend's side, shaking him. 

"Dude holy crap. Schlatt man are you there? Please don't tell me you fucking died on me holy fuck."

The elder groaned, pushing away Techno with his free hand and then going to check another bottle. Before he could even brush his fingers against it, Techno snatched it up, a look of horror painting his face. The bottle was empty, and by the looks of it, all the beer bottles on the table were empty. 

Techno grabbed the sides of Schlatt's face, forcing him to look up. Schlatt's eyes were unfocused, looking everywhere but the bright overhead light of the studio apartment. The pink haired male sighed, resting Schlatt's head down softly back on the table. He got up and grabbed all the empty beer bottles…wait…where did Schlatt get beer? Techno never kept beer in the house when guests brought it with them, let alone ever buy it in the first place. 

He returned back to the table, grabbing the wine bottle and whiskey bottle, sighing as he had to either drain them, or try and find a better place to hide them. With that thought, he looked over to the pantry that had been originally locked and became wide eyed when he noticed the lock had been forced open. He also looked down at the drawer that had Schlatt's flask and whiskey in it. The front of the drawer had deep scratch marks and dried blood stains on it. 

Stumbling back to Schlatt, Techno took one of the older's hands, looking at the jagged, bleeding nails and fingertips. He placed Schlatt's hand back onto the table, getting up and walking over to the bathroom. Grabbing the first aid kit he kept in the bathroom closet and turning tail and speed jogging back to Schlatt. 

He cleaned Schlatt's hand, rubbing alcohol wipes over both hands and then applying peroxide.Filing down some of the jagged nails and trying to clean up the others. Wrapping bandages and gauze around both of the man's hands. 

Schlatt yanked away one of his hands, lifting his head up to look at it, almost confused. He raised the bandaged hand up to his mouth and grabbed at the medical cloth with his teeth, trying to tear it off. Techno quickly grabbed his hand again, pulling it away and sighing. If Techno said he wasn't shaking with worry, that would be a big lie. 

"Schlatt, bud, can you hear me? Are you all there man?"

Schlatt was about to nod, but part of him knew, even in this state that it wasn't a smart idea to lie to Techno. So, he made an unsure sound, looking around to see where the empty bottles had gone. He wasn't really thinking of drinking another one, he was just genuinely curious as to where they had went. 

Techno sighed, standing up and lightly pulling up Schlatt with him and walking the short distance to their couch. He lightly pushed Schlatt down so that he sat. Schlatt of course fell onto the couch heavily with a groan, blocking his eyes from the bright ceiling light. The pink haired man walked over, flicking off the ceiling light and instead turning on the soft glowing fake candles that were riddled around the apartment. They didn't give off a lot of light, but it was enough to not bump into everything in their shared home. 

Returning to the living room, Techno took another look at Schlatt, who was looking down at his own hands and wrists again, in what Techno assumed would have been confusion if Schlatt wasn't nearly blackout drunk. Actually, the man was and Techno could tell he was teetering on the edges of consciousness. He wanted to make sure Schlatt had at least drank water before he passed out for the night. 

Techno stood in front of Schlatt with a cup of water, holding it out slightly. Schlatt attempted to reach out for said glass only to have his hand lightly pushed away. The other made a confused sound, looking in Techno's relative direction. The taller sighed and pressed the glass against Schlatt's face.

"I don't trust you to not drop the glass, so just open your mouth and slowly, SLOWLY, sip the water. I'll hold it for you."

Schallt nodded and did so, taking small sips of the water till about half the glass was gone. At that point, he waved away the glass, rubbing the sides of his head and laying down on the couch. Techno grumbled, grabbing Schlatt's shoulders and pushing him up slightly so he could sit down on the couch, letting Schlatt lean against him. He wrapped his arms around Techno, sighing into the elder's hair. 

Schlatt dozed off. 

Once taking note of this, Techno let out one of the heaviest sighs even he's heard, and maybe a tear or two. Anyone who knew Schlatt well enough knew that he had always struggled with panic disorders, whether they be diagnosed yet or not. There was always something that plagued the brunette, and even if Techno had his own mental issues to deal with, Schlatt wasn't aware of his. Well, he was but, it seemed almost that he didn't want to be. So, it didn't surprise Techno that the man had resorted to drinking in hopes of feeling what Schlatt called "normal and likable". 

Frankly, it hurt to see his best friend like this. It hurt like hell. Sure the guy may be irritable and annoying sometimes and he has the strange addiction to collecting old dolls but hey Techno wasn't one to judge hobbies even if said hobbie heavily triggered his auditory hallucinations. But Schlatt had heavily apologized for that a good few times. 

Techno looked back down at Schlatt's sleeping form. He knew there was damage to asses in the morning. The guy had gotten to the Wine and Whiskey. Yeah his fingers were fucked from ripping open the drawer, but Techno didn't want to imagine what Schlatt had done to open the pantry in his moment of hysterics. 

He stood up, slinging Schlatt's arm over his shoulder and walking him over to his bedroom, opening the door and setting Schlatt down on his bed. Techno exited the room, looking back at Schlatt for a moment before sighing, and closing the door. 


	2. I Don't Think Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This part deals with things such as smoking, gamblin, drug use, pill addictions, child neglect, peer pressure, implied self harm and implied anger issues  
> \------------  
> Schlatt has a panic attack where he remembers some not so pleasent things from his past, which he used to believe he had no memory of.

It had been about a month or two since his last incident, and Schlatt would say that he's doing better. Well, better as in he hasn't cracked and drank alcohol, mentally though he's definitely not gotten better. 

Techno was keeping a closer eye on him then before, making sure to not allow any alcohol into their apartment. 

Schlatt's wounds had gotten better. His fingers had healed easily but Schlatt was still wearing bandages around his hands. He didn't need them, but something inside him because too self conscious looking at his scared fingers. His arm on the other hand was still healing. 

The muscle itself had been bruised and this meant even lifting his arm was very painful. So once again, a forced break was put upon him from playing any gigs or shows. 

Schlatt was sat on his and Techno's couch, messing with the pop tab on a can of soda. Techno was sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, looking over a set of sheet music and making notes here and there on it. 

This can of soda was unopened and Schlatt had just been messing with it's pop tab for about ten minutes. He had been trying to open it, but the bandages on his hand made him slip slightly, mixed with how his hands had started to shake. 

Techno looked up at the frustrated sound Schlatt made, holding out his hand to open the can for him. Schlatt looked at him for a minute until his face morphed to more frustration.

"No I've fucking got it."

"Obviously you don't. Otherwise you'd have it open ten minutes ago. Plus it's starting to tear at your bandages." Techno took the can out of his hand and cracked it open with ease. He went to hand it back to Schlatt, but Schlatt just got up from where he was sitting and walked towards his room. 

God, how could he not do a simple task like opening a fucking soda can!? 

He leaned against the hallway wall near to his door. He didn't have the energy to get in his room. 

This…this suffocating pain was new to Schlatt. Usually he'd have chugged at least a beer by now to chase away the dark hurt that filled his guts. 

His brain hurt. It flashed that same thought to him. One that felt foreign but so familiar at the same time. Was it a thought? He couldn't tell. It felt like some kind of memory but, as far as Schlatt cared, he remembered little to none of his childhood and that never bugged him. If he forgot it, it must have not been important….right? 

Schlatt raised a shaking hand over his mouth, sobbing and trembling in the hallway. 

_ "Shut the hell up J! You are so damn loud all the time. If you want food, go and get it your damn self. Mommy is busy. She has friends over and she doesn't want you bothering her. Got it?!" _

_ Schlatt nodded shakily, small hiccups escaping him as he tried to quiet his crying. He lifted his shirt sleeve to his face, wiping away the new tears from his red and raw eyes.  _

_ He had been crying for the past hour plus for food. His mother refused to pay attention to it though, too engaged in the game of poker she had been playing with her friends.  _

_ The downstairs is where they were set up. The dining table is just big enough to fit the five adults. Cigarette smoke filled the already stale air of the small house, causing the young Schlatt to cough in between his cries. His throat hurt so much, the air smelled bad and he was starving.  _

_ Schlatt's mother worked night to morning shifts, never giving Schlatt breakfast and barely feeding him dinner. He usually had to find out how to get lunch himself at the age of 5. When she was home and would feed him, he was only allowed one serving. After that he would be sent to his room, where then he would hear the usual headache inducing music coming from the cars outside in their driveway. This meant his mom's friends were here. _

_ Once a week every week for as long as Schlatt could remember. They all came over, played poker, got black out drunk and smoked. One time one of these friends brought his old prescription meds he had been taking for a broken arm that had recently been healed. That night, Schlatt from the security of the staircase watched his mom and friend get high off of pills. He didn't like seeing his mom act like that. It was scary. _

_ It was on Schlatt's 7th birthday that he had alcohol for the first time. He didn't want to, but his mom had held him a birthday party. Well, the party only consisted of his mother's friends and a few moms around neighboring areas. They had become concerned with how quiet and jumpy of a kid Schlatt was, so inviting them was a way for them to get off his mom's ass about it.  _

_ At around 8pm all the moms had left, wishing Schlatt a happy birthday and leaving. But his mom's friends stayed. Once one of them shouted that all the moms were well gone, Schlatt's mom sighed and instantly broke out a bottle of whiskey. Schlatt didn't know what it was at the time. He genuinely thought it was just a cool water bottle.  _

_ His mom poured a cup and held it out to him. It smelled…bad. He didn't like it. He shook his head and pushed away the glass. Sighing, his mother pushed it back towards him. _

_ "J don't be a fucking brat. Just drink the damn thing. It's good! It's mommy's special drink that she likes so much." _

_ Schlatt shook hisbhead again, eyes pricking with tears as he neared the edge of crying. He felt safer when those other moms were around.  _

_ His mother sighed and slammed a fist on the table. _

_ "J, if you don't fucking drink it you're not getting anything else to drink or eat tonight. This is all you get. So take it or leave it." _

_ Schlatt was thirsty. God he was so thirsty now that he thought about it.  _

_ Shakily, he picked up the glass, taking a sip of it. It burned so bad. He coughed hard, tears sliding down his face at the pain. His throat was already raw from crying the night before, but now it hurt so much worse.  _

_ "Come on sweetie, drink up."  _

_ Schlatt didn't want to be in trouble, so he did as his mom said. He drank the entire glass and god he hated every second of it. He looked up at her, tears streaming down his cheeks and leaving angry red lines in their wake.  _

_ "M-mom can-can I please g-go to my ro-ro-room?"  _

_ His mom scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Fine, party pooper. But don't come complaining to me if you get thirsty because you won't get shit." _

_ Going up the stairs was hard to do. Schlatt's head felt fuzzy and his body burned. He felt like he was going to vomit, but if he was he held it down. Crawling into his small bed, he wrapped himself in his blanket and quietly sobbed.  _

_ Everything hurt.  _

  
  


_ The first time someone took notice was at the local park. Schlatt didn't go to school. His mom was 'home schooling' him, if you could call making your kid drink and have panic attacks homeschool.  _

_ Schlatt was about 11 years old and he barely talked. He commonly was made fun of for it. Mothers took notice and asked him about his home situation, and Schlatt said nothing. He just shook his head and muttered out a 'its fine' and went back to playing.  _

_ He went home that night to see his mother's friends already there. Schlatt started staying out late, hoping he could avoid his mother's friends. Sneaking through the front door, he tried to make it to the staircase, but his mother's voice reached him first. _

_ "Hey J. Get your ass in the kitchen." Schlatt obliged. _

_ His mother stood there, leaned against the counter with a cigarette between her lips. She let a puff of smoke out of her lungs and put out the cigarette on the countertop. The woman pointed to the table that rested against the far kitchen wall. On top of it was broken and mangled flute. It was covered in dents and it had keys missing.  _

_ Schlatt felt all the color drain from his face and the life drip out of his eyes. His…his flute. Schlatt had been what some call a music pratogey. His mom leached off the money he made via tournaments to pay for alcohol and cigarettes. Playing that flute gave him some kind of fleeting happiness, and now it was gone.  _

_ He doesn't remember how he ended up in the bathroom, holding the sink until his knuckles were white.  _

_ Shaky hands reached towards the mirror, one coming back and swinging towards it at full force. _

  
  


Schlatt was shaken out of his…well whatever you could call that. Techno was in front of him, shaking his shoulders and calling his name.

Everything sounded muffled and his vision was blurry from his tears. Schlatt untangled his hands from around himself and hugged onto Techno, shaking violently almost. 

Techno hugged him, running a hand through the older's hair. 

"Holy shit man…are you okay?"

Schlatt sniffled, wiping away his tear eyes and wetly chuckled.

"I don't think so."


End file.
